The Alcohol in the Agent
by Bonesafile
Summary: A short take on what might have happened right after the end of the Daredevil in the Mold. How would Brennan deal with a very drunk Booth.  Just a bit of B&B fluff.  Spoilers for 6x13.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, so this one came to me out of the blue after watching 6x13. I flashed back to the movie The Way We Were and the scene where Barbra Streisand takes a very drunk Robert Redford home. Anyone remember that (or am I really dating myself)? It answered the question for me as to what might happen after Brennan spent the evening with Booth at the bar watching him drown his sorrows.**

**As always, I don't own Bones...**

**Chapter 1: Home Again, Home Again, Jiggedy Jig**

Brennan glanced at her partner as he sat slumped over the edge of the bar, his head on his arm.

"Booth, it's time to go home. You've had enough. I'll help you into a cab."

The head moved just a bit and a low "Hmmm" was all that could be heard.

"I'll take that as a yes." Brennan quickly paid the bar tab and took a firm grip on Booth's his right arm under his shoulder. Inhaling a deep breath, she hoisted hard and he lifted off the stool just enough to have to put his feet on the floor for balance. Or at least his attempt at balance.

He was standing, sort of, which was a good start. She maneuvered his arm over her shoulder and, bearing quite a bit of weight, lumbered towards the front door of the Founding Fathers.

Once outside, she hailed a cab and the driver patiently waited while Brennan got Booth situated in the back. She gave the driver Booth's address and moved to close the back door but was forestalled by Booth's hand shooting out through the opening and grabbing her free wrist.

Booth gazed bleary eyed up into Brennan's face. He appeared to be slightly more alert than he had been during their tedious walk to the curb. The cool outside air must have helped to clear his head a bit.

"No, not my place. Can't face it t'night. Won't go there." This last was said emphatically just before he slumped over sideways on the seat, as if the effort of focusing that hard for that long had completely depleted his energy.

Brennan glanced at the cab driver whose raised eyebrow conveyed an expectation that she would be the one deciding what he was to do with the drunken man in his back seat.

"Okay, fine" she murmured, "I'll have to take him to my place to sleep it off." She gave the cab driver her address and walked around to the other side of the car to get into the back seat with Booth. She heaved him more or less upright so that he slumped heavily against her right side.

"Thanz, Bones" Booth mumbled. She rolled her eyes but at the same time awkwardly patted Booth's head where it lay on her shoulder. Above all, her partner was hurting very badly tonight and she was determined to be there for him, even though she knew it could be painful for her in the process.

At the moment, it was all about Booth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Remedy for What Ails You**

With a lot of effort, Brennan managed to get Booth into her apartment and onto the bed in her guest room. He lay fully dressed, sprawled on his back. If she left him like that, he'd wake up with a terrible hangover and feeling even worse having slept in his clothes. The last problem was easy enough to deal with. She took off his shoes and socks, undid his belt and pants and slid them off his legs. She knew from the time she'd had to collect evidence from his clothing that he wore boxers, for which she was grateful. She'd seen her partner naked on one occasion and that memory remained burned in her memory, even though she'd shrugged it off at the time. She didn't want more pictures that she'd have to forcibly forget.

Getting his shirt off was a bit more difficult but after some heaving and twisting she pulled the black cotton button-down off of his arms and out from under him. As he was lying on top of the comforter, she took another blanket out of the closet and covered him.

What to do about the hangover, though? She knew quite a few remedies from different cultures but found that the most accessible, and likely most acceptable to Booth would be a few aspirin and a large glass of water. Still, she couldn't resist adding some tried and true herbal curatives she had lying around.

Brennan changed into a t-shirt and yoga pants in anticipation of the physical exertion that would likely be involved in getting Booth to drink her concoction. After mixing everything in the water, she stood by the side of the bed and pondered how she was going to get the liquid into her partner. She decided that she needed leverage, so she started by jamming a second pillow under his neck. Once he was a bit more upright she sat by his side and slid an arm under his upper back. Pushing with that arm while pulling at his shoulder with the other arm, she managed to lever him into a sort of tilting upright position.

"Booth," she said, shaking him gently. "I need you to drink something and then you can go back to sleep."

"Nnnn," he groaned, which did not sound very cooperative.

She shook a bit harder and then slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Come on, wake up. You need to drink this or you will feel very badly tomorrow."

His eyes squinted open, but he didn't look at all aware of what was going on. Brennan tried to reach to pick up the glass off of the bedside table but she couldn't manage to twist that far without losing her grip on her partner.

She moved to shift her body behind his so that he would be sitting between her thighs and leaning against her while she was supported by the headboard. Once in this position, she stretched out her right arm and grabbed the glass. Slowly to avoid spilling, she curled her arm in front of his face and lifted the glass to his lips.

"Booth, drink." She spoke softly but forcefully. "Open your mouth." She pulled gently down on his chin with her free hand as she said this and his lips parted enough that she could tip some of the contents of the glass between them.

It was a slow painstaking process, but eventually she managed to get Booth to drink a significant percentage of the beverage. After replacing the glass on the nightstand, she wiped his face, neck and chest to dry off those places where the drink had spilled.

As hard as she tried to remain clinical about the process, the weight of Booth's warm body on hers, the feel of his skin as she mopped at his chest with the corner of blanket, all contributed to a predictable physical response. Her breath quickened and she felt waves of warmth flow through her.

With firm resolve, she began the process of sliding out from behind Booth while lowering him back into a comfortable position on the bed. She had just extricated her left leg from behind his back when Booth shifted to his right side, threw his left arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against him.

Stunned, Brennan lay still, pressed tightly against Booth. She was now mostly on her back. Booth's face was buried in the hollow between her right shoulder and her neck, the left half of his body on top of the right half of hers, his arm keeping her firmly in place. Fortunately, he wasn't crushing her with his weight as the portion of his body still on the bed, the right side, was bearing that.

Brennan chewed her lip and contemplated the situation. Booth had not completely passed out again, as he was making soft murmuring noises close to her ear. They sounded like the kind of noises he made when he ate a particularly good piece of pie. Contented, almost happy noises.

He had been so miserable tonight, the sounds seemed at odds with all that had gone before. Perhaps he was having a good dream.

About what? she wondered fleetingly. Hannah? Her? His favorite hockey team?

She knew she'd have to leave soon or else face a very awkward scene in the morning, but she didn't want to disturb these few moments of subconscious pleasure he seemed to be enjoying. She decided to wait until he quieted down again before extricating herself.

If she were to be honest, and she did always try to be honest, she was very much enjoying the feel of his large frame pressed against her, his bare chest so firm and warm. It had been quite a while since she'd been with a man.

And this wasn't just any man.

This was Booth, the man she loved.

She breathed in the masculine scent she knew so well, tinged as it was with the smell of the whiskey he'd been drinking tonight.

Just a few moments, she reminded herself. She reached over and turned off the bedside light, then she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Perchance to Dream**

This had to be one of the best dreams she'd ever had, Brennan thought, not finding it odd in the least that she was evaluating a dream while in the midst of it. She'd had some amazing dreams while in the Maluku Islands, most involving Booth. But this dream had those beaten by miles. This dream was so much more tangible than those had ever been. The weight of his body on hers, the feel of his warm hands on her bare skin, the hardness of him pressing insistently against her.

Pressing, pulling back, pressing again.

Seeking an entrance that was somehow being denied.

That wasn't how the dream was supposed to go.

With great reluctance, Brennan slowly rose to the surface of consciousness. As the dream haze evaporated, she realized that Booth was in fact very real and lying on top of her. Unlike her, still a bit foggy but with her head rapidly clearing, he was definitey more asleep than awake. Awake, he would never be caressing her like this. She stiffled a groan as one large hand reached under her t-shirt to caress her breast. The arousal that had begun while she'd been dozing increased exponentially now. She felt his warm lips trailing kisses down her neck, heard his soft moans in her ear.

And his hips, his hips! He was nestled between her thighs, his hips moving in a primal rhythm against her. Her yoga pants and his boxer shorts provided only a thin barrier between them. Brennan could feel his scalding heat as he thrust against her, his moans increasing in volume with each push. She fought the urge to join her cries with his, to meet his thrusts with her own. She noticed a wetness pooling between her legs.

If she didn't stop him now, she'd never be able to. She lifted a hand to his shoulder and gently pushed. All she needed was a little distance and surely her senses would return to her.

She found though that he was too intent on the task at hand to pull back even an inch. Or, perhaps she wasn't really trying as hard as she should. She dropped her hand, telling herself she needed to regroup, but really wondering if she'd ever truly have the stength, mental or physical, to move him. This was the culmination of so many fantasies. Of course, in most of those he'd been awake, staring hungrily into her eyes, calling out her name.

Her name.

It occurred to her in that moment that as wonderful as it felt to have Booth, even a semi-conscious Booth, indulging in very arousing foreplay with her, she needed with a desperation that she couldn't totally rationalize, to know that Booth understood whom he was with, even acknowledging that he would not be with her at all if he was halfway in his right mind. She just wanted drunken Booth, fantasizing Booth, to visualize her as the object of his desire. She'd seen those strange looks he'd been casting her way in the past few weeks. Was it impossible to think that he might still wonder how it would be with her? She certainly did.

She turned her head and whispered Booth's name into his ear. It was a longshot, as distracted and inebriated as he was, but she hoped if she said his name, he'd respond by saying hers.

"Ah, Baby, so good." He moved his hands under her hips and pulled her thighs further apart, giving himself greater access to her core. He thrust harder and she could feel the material of her yoga pants, saturated now, stretching inside of her.

"Oh, Booth," she groaned, her resolve fading. No longer fully in control of herself, her hands slid as if of their own accord to edge her yoga pants down her legs as far as she could. Once past her knees, she bent one leg and then the other to push them off. Her movements enflamed Booth even more. His tempo increased and his breathing became shorter, his voice husky.

"Bones, yes, Bones."

Those words, those simple words, set Brennan on fire. With desperate movements, she reached between their bodies and freed Booth from his shorts. He was so hot and so hard she didn't know if she'd could hold out much longer. Frantic to feel him inside her, she adjusted her position and rocked her hips just as he was once again thrusting forward. They moaned their pleasure in unison. Everything happened very quickly after that. It wasn't elegant or romantic, just a primal need met to perfection. She wrapped her legs around him as he pulled her even closer, moving himself as deep as he could within her. A few powerful thrusts and they both came in a wild explosion, panting, moaning, grunting unintelligible words.

Booth collapsed on top her, breathing heavily but otherwise not moving a muscle. Brennan inhaled deeply, content for the moment to revel in the aftermath of what had just occurred. She turned her head and kissed Booth behind the ear.

He didn't respond. Not even a twitch. He was completely out now.

Emboldened by his lack of awareness, she ran her fingers through his hair. She didn't think he'd remember any of this in the morning, which, she rationalized, was the only acceptable excuse for her behavior. He was too hurt, too angry, to embark down this path so soon. But at some level he'd been seeking comfort and she'd been more than willing to give him what he'd been seeking. Especially knowing that he'd been seeking it from her and her alone.

"It was a dream, Booth. A lovely dream," she whispered trying to convince him and herself at the same time.

With reluctance but a reborn sense of purpose, Brennan wiggled and slid until she maneuvered her body out from under his. She would leave him now to perpetuate the fallacy that nothing had happened between them. If they had any chance of a future together, he first needed to heal.

The blanket had been kicked to the bottom of the bed. Brennan groped blindly beneath it to find her yoga pants.

After pulling on her pants, Brennan adjusted Booth's boxers and then pulled the blanket up over him.

Before leaving the room, Brennan studied her partner's face, faintly illuminated by the dim light from the window. She thought she could be imagining it, but the muscles around his eyes seemed less strained, his lips curled slightly in contentment.

She smiled, feeling more hopeful, and definitely more satisfied, than she had in months.

**AN: The end. Hope you liked it. I have started a sequel entitled Two Months Later. Have a look!**


End file.
